


STOP!

by moonlitfog



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:12:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitfog/pseuds/moonlitfog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones just wants to fix Jim.<br/>Another prompt fill for Buckle-up meme on LJ. This was the original prompt from ageofalejandro:<br/>For the lulz: future!bridge crew sees Bones haring off after a fleeing Jim, yelling things like "COME BACK AND LET ME SCREEN YOU!" (Jim's response: "NEVAR!") at random times over the course of the Academy years. The reason these exchanges happen are totally up to super awesome filler Anon, but please no slut shaming.</p>
<p>If you can figure out how to work porn in there somehow (idk how, but people are creative!), that would be amazing. :) </p>
<p>I completely failed at the porn and at getting a beta for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	STOP!

Jim sauntered over to their customary table and sat down across from Bones. “Jeez, this looks repulsive. One of us really needs to start cooking, man. Maybe then we won't die from some weird diet based disease or something.”

Bones stared at Jim in surprise. “Isn't that my line? I'm the one supposed to be worrying about people dying in horrible ways.” He stared at Jim, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Watching Jim eat, he slowly chewed on a forkful of some gray lumps he though may be intended to mimic potatoes. Or cauliflower. Or solidified nutrition enhanced paste.

Jim started talking about the latest speculation that the shuttles were used on weekends for taking special people to a weekly party in Baja, and his determination to stow away one of these weeks for the time of his life. Bones surveyed Jim's plate while stoically working his way through the varied untasty edibles on his own plate. Wincing, Bones reflected that maybe Jim had a point about cooking. Either that or they would have to start ordering takeout or going to a nearby eatery. Anything to save themselves from future, apparently legal, physical and psychological torture experiments like this lunch.

When Jim mentioned (without prompting) that he would take protection on the trip even though he wasn't specifically looking for that kind of a good time, and then ate what was probably some kind of vegetable without Bones saying a word, he wondered if Jim was ill. When Jim said he was staying in that night to study instead of going out to bar-hop, Bones knew Jim must be sick. He reached over to feel Jim's forehead, testing for a fever, before reaching to pull out his tricorder.

Nyota and Gaila were standing by the entrance to the mess hall after lunch when Jim raced out the door past them and hared off across the quad. Bones rapidly followed, tricorder waving in the air as he pelted after Jim, “Damn it, Jim! Come back here and let me scan you!” The last they saw of the men, they were rounding the corner of the library, Bones in hot pursuit. Turning to each other, they blinked in astonishment, shook their heads, and went back to discussing the relative merits of choosing the was-that-an-actual-mammal-at-some-point mystery meat over the are-you-sure-that's-edible veggie special for lunch today.

~O~

Bones walked into their dorm room after a too-long day of shuttle sim, combat class, xeno-biology class, a shift at the clinic and a cooking class. He was not prepared for what he saw. Jim. Well, he was prepared to see Jim. He wasn't prepared to see Jim doing flower arranging.

Jim was studiously peering at the three roses and baby's breath already in the vase, then down at the daisies, lily and calendula still on the desk. He held the lily against the vase and moved it up and down before cutting the stem and plopping it in, moving it to the center of the flowers. He continued with the rest of the flowers, filling in the vase, while Bones put his pack on his bed, then quietly got out his tricorder.

He stealthily moved toward Jim, intending to scan him. Jim had to have some kind of traumatic head injury. There couldn't be any other logical explanation for Jim's bewildering actions. Jim absently asked, “How does that look? That look alright? It's not too much, is it?” His head was cocked, intent on the bouquet, reaching out to move a fern leaf a smidgen before he caught Bones's reflection in the window.

Jim's eyes widened at the image of Bones, tricorder reaching out as he stalked toward him. He rolled out of his chair, somersaulted under Bones's arms and raced out the door. Bones whirled and followed, grateful he had kept in shape. They ran down the hall, down the stairs and out the door, Bones making good progress in catching the man so obviously in need of medical attention.

Spock watched the men race across the lawn, his brows raised as high as they would go. Bones was yelling, “Come back here Jim. I need to check you out. You need help, damn it.” Jim was yelling over Bones's voice, “It's for a class, Bones. It's a class, I swear. Get that thing away from me.” Spock observed them cut across the quad and disappear into the library. “Fascinating.”

~O~

Jim was scrubbing his hands vigorously when Bones walked in to change out of his scrubs. “What're you doin', Jim?”

“Trying to get this green off my skin. This is just the weirdest thing ever.”

“Good God, man. I don't know what's causing that but I need to find out and treat it. Now.” 

Jim's skin was blotchy green, spots of normal skin color showing in places through the green mottled across the backs of his hands. His fingernails were an unhealthy yellow-green. Bones mentally reviewed the potential diseases that could have caused such discolorations as Jim snorted. “Give it a rest, Bones. A little elbow grease will take care of it.” 

He tensed when Bones darted for the tricorder, Bones determined that this time he'd get Jim scanned before he could get away. Bones snatched up the tricorder and stood in the bathroom doorway, blocking Jim from being able to leave. They feinted and dodged, bobbed and wove, Bones assiduously trying to scan Jim, Jim just as stubborn about not being scanned.

They would have perhaps stayed in a stalemate all night if Jim hadn't cheated. Bones was truly unprepared for Jim to suddenly lurch toward him and flatten himself against Bones a heartbeat before flattening their lips together. Bones's eyes popped even as his stomach erupted in butterflies. Well, this was an unexpected reaction. Jim was under his arm and out the door before he had time to collect himself, whirl and give chase.

Pavel Chekov was rudely separated from the truly lovely Deltan cheerleader when Jim Kirk plowed into them where they were necking in the hallway. He whipped around to stare as Jim pelted away shouting, “Kool-Aid! Kool-Aid, Bones! It was a prank gone wrong, an accident!” Pavel stared at Reela and she shook her head in bafflement when they were knocked askew again by Leonard McCoy racing between them. “Godamit, get a room you damned fool brats! Jim, get back here, I need to check you, you're sick, man!” Pavel grinned and slipped his arm around Reela. In a husky voice he said, “My room. Doctor's orders.”

~O~

Jim and Bones had been wandering the streets on Foundation Day and Jim, much like a magpie attracted by a bright, shiny object, had dragged Bones into an art gallery when he had seen a particularly amazing flash of colors. They wandered through and found themselves standing at the back, facing a huge painting. Well, Bones supposed it was a painting, although it appeared to have been created by a blind, epileptic chimpanzee with no spatial awareness from random colors apparently applied with scraps of tissue and then rolled upon with its own body.

“That is as ugly as home-made sin.”

Jim turned to him in astonishment. “What? What the hell? Home-made sin? Who even talks like that? And I dunno, I kind of like it.”

Bones turned to Jim and waved a hand in front of his face. “Kid? What other symptoms do you have? Blurry vision? Headache? Any nausea?”

It wasn't until Jim noticed the tricorder being surreptitiously moved toward him that he bolted.

Hikaru Sulu was discussing restaurants for their lunch date with Christine Chapel when Hikaru heard shouting and turned to see that odd Kirk kid race out of a gallery pursued by... was that Christine's colleague Dr. McCoy? Kirk was shouting, “It's bright! And colorful! And do you carry that thing around with you everywhere?! You're sick, man, sick!” McCoy was waving... was that a tricorder?... as he tore after Kirk, “Come back here and let me check you before you go blind” floating in his wake.

Hikaru turned back to Christine and said, “Was that...”

“Yeah. Did he have...”

“Looked like.”

They blinked at each other. Hikaru said, “I kind of pity the ship Kirk ends up on. Now, how about that sweet little Italian place over there?”

~O~

Admiral Christopher Pike was in his office when he turned at the sight of two men pelting across the quad. Moving over to the window, he called, “Hey, Phil. Come check this out.” The two men watched Dr. Leonard McCoy chase Cadet James T. Kirk toward the dorms, tricorder waving in the air and faint raised voices following behind. 

Boyce turned to Pike and grinned. “I don't know what Kirk did, but I hope McCoy gives him the exam to end all exams. Little shit deserves it for all the trouble he's caused.” Pike snorted. “Like the kind of exams you give me?” Eyebrows waggled as Pike smirked. Boyce shoved Pike backwards with a palm to Pike's face. “Thanks, babe. I need brain bleach now.”

Bones cornered Jim in a custodial closet and hit him with a mildly sedating hypospray. It wasn't enough to put him out, but was enough to make him pliable for a few minutes. He dragged Jim back to their room and shoved him onto the bed before scanning Jim. “Sorry for the hypo, kid, but I'm damned well checking you for once.” The tricorder hummed and came back showing Jim in good health.

“Well, I'll be damned. I thought for sure, the way you were acting, turning down the chance to go sky-diving to spend the afternoon studying with me meant you would be sick for sure. So what gives?”

Jim snorted. “Life around you is way more exciting. I've never done so much running in my life.” The last part was mumbled under Jim's breath. Bones wasn't sure he had heard correctly. “Did you just say, 'Why would I want to go when you wouldn't be there?'”

“Um. Maybe?”

“You wanted to stay here because I wasn't gonna be there?”

Jim glanced around the room before muttering, “Well, kinda, sorta, maybe.”

Bones straddled Jim, “Well, now. I think I need to examine you hands-on. Obviously the tricorder isn't gonna cut it this time.”

Jim's eyebrow quirked. A slow smile spread. “You gonna give me an injection?”

Bones slapped him in the head. “Asshole. I never give 'injections' on the first date. Or the first exam.”

“Does it count as a first where we've lived together for years?”

“That's a technicality. Still, you do have a point. Let me start by demonstrating a version of CPR.”

There wasn't much breathing involved, it was more gasps and moans between licks and nibbles, but Bones got his point across. They both enjoyed testing each others' muscle tone, and Jim was more than willing when Bones said, “Now, this is how a prostate exam is done. Sort of.” In the end, when they were both covered in bodily fluids and nestled in each others' arms, sated for the moment, Jim said, “OK. I've now got a medical kink. I hold you responsible. So, Doctor Bones, I expect to be examined regularly, and with great enthusiasm from now on. Got it?”

“Yeah, Jim. I think I can do that. Now. I feel the need for an inoculation myself. Wanna play doctor?”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my hell, I loooove crack. It's debatable whether anyone else thinks it's funny, but I sure enjoy writing it. It should go without saying that I don't know or own or profit from these characters. I'm just amusing myself. I apologize for the comma-abuse and other grammar sins. If you see something that needs to be corrected and you feel like telling me, I'll be happy to fix it.


End file.
